


Figure it Out

by crochetaway



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 01:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15352851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: Hermione Granger runs into someone surprising the summer after the Final Battle. When Draco Malfoy and she form a pact to help keep her safe from an overzealous local Hermione swears it's just a summer fling. Draco has other plans though.





	Figure it Out

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: Grammarly is my beta. If you liked this (or hated it) let me know about it in a review!**
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

Digging her toes further into the sand, Hermione Granger smiled to herself. Things had worked out far better than they had any right to this close to the end of the war. Instead of staying in Britain to help the rebuilding efforts, Hermione, with Harry and Ron’s blessing, had gone to Australia to find her parents. It hadn’t taken that long to find them; they were listed in the phone book in Port Douglas, just where she’d urged them to go. Hermione had thought long and hard about casting the Obliviate Charm on her parents, but at the end of the day, she just couldn’t do it. Instead, she sat them down, and with the help of Remus and Tonks, had a very frank discussion about their safety. They had been extraordinarily angry at Hermione for hiding as much as she had in the last several years.

But at last, the three of them had convinced her parents to take a temporary name change and a semi-permanent vacation to Port Douglas. Hermione hadn’t even known the names they’d taken. Instead, she’d had them write them down and then put them in a Muggle safe deposit box. Hermione was taking no chances, and during her torture in Malfoy Manor, she had been thankful she’d done what she could to spare her parents as much hurt as she could.

And now, after finding her parents in Australia, she was enjoying the rest of her summer on the beach. She did feel guilty that she wasn’t in Britain to help with the cleanup. Or to grieve with Ron’s family. Or for Remus and Tonks. But as Harry had told her, she could grieve anywhere. And Ron reminded her that her family mattered too. She’d taken a significant risk by sending them away, and both of her friends were happy that she had a family to go home to; even if their own families weren’t what they used to be. Harry and Ron at least had always understood her.

It wasn’t that Hermione was unaffected by the war, she was. She still had nightmares almost every night. Loud noises made her duck and pull her wand, but she also knew she’d been fighting for her life for a long time, and that stress was not good for anyone. She felt lucky that her friends were so understanding. And thankful that her parents were just happy to see her alive. They weren’t even angry with her, once she’d told them everything that had happened. She’d never felt closer to them, and now she was lounging on the beach, soaking up the sun before she returned to Britain in a few weeks to go back to Hogwarts. She knew Harry and Ron were going straight into the Auror program. They had written her last week about it. But Hermione wouldn’t feel right about not finishing her education and sitting for her NEWT’s.

Hermione turned over onto her back, adjusting her sunglasses so that she was protected and snuggled into the towel beneath her. She loved laying outside in the sun, usually reading, but just laying there, soaking up the rays was enough for Hermione to feel happy. She didn’t even notice right away when her sun was blocked by somebody. And when she did, she stopped breathing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, sharper than she’d meant.

He smirked at her, “I could ask you the same thing, Granger.”

Hermione frowned. Draco Malfoy was too pale for a beach in Australia. He’d burn to a crisp. “My parents live here,” Hermione said by way of explanation.

Malfoy shrugged, “I found the need to escape Britain for a while.”

“They let you leave?” Hermione promptly bit her lip. She shouldn’t have said that.

Malfoy sneered, “I was cleared of all charges.” He turned to go, and Hermione cursed herself. She jumped up and went after him. He was halfway to the water before she caught up to him.

“Malfoy,” she said, pulling back on his arm so he’d face her. He stopped in his tracks and turned to look down at her hand, clutched around his arm, then raised his head to her, cocking his eyebrow. Hermione felt like an idiot, and heat rose in her cheeks. She dropped his arm abruptly.

“Sorry, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were guilty of anything.”

“Right,” he pursed his lips and looked over her shoulder.

“Hermione!” Hermione’s mum, Helena Granger, called out.

“Someone, you know?” Malfoy asked.

“My mum,” Hermione said just as Helena caught up with them.

“There you are, dear,” Helena said and wrapped her arm around Hermione’s waist. That’s when Hermione realized she was in an itsy bitsy bikini in front of Draco Malfoy. He at least was wearing swim trunks and a sun shirt. More heat bloomed in her cheeks, embarrassed with how much skin she was showing off.

“Friend of yours?” Helena asked when nobody said anything for a moment.

“Uh, yeah,” Hermione nodded. “Mum, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco, my mum, Helena. He went to Hogwarts, too.”

“Malfoy? I’ve heard that name…” Helena trailed off.

Malfoy smirked, “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs Granger.” Then he winked at Hermione, “Didn’t know you talked about me so much, Granger.”

Hermione felt mortified. “I’m sure it was nothing good.”

Malfoy laughed, and butterflies sprang up in Hermione’s abdomen. He looked good when he laughed. _Oh, Merlin, you’re in trouble Granger._

“Well, I was just about to drag this one home for supper. Would you like to join us, Draco?” Helena asked.

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she looked at Malfoy and shook her head, mouthing ‘no.’ Either Malfoy didn’t understand, or he was deliberately torturing her. Hermione wasn’t sure which.

“I’d love to,” Malfoy smiled warmly.

Hermione cursed inwardly. “Right, let me grab my things, mum.”

She twisted out of her mum’s embrace and went back to her towel and bag. Throwing on her coverup, Hermione jammed her feet into her flip-flops and packed up the towel. Maybe Malfoy wasn’t going to be staying in Port Douglas long? Hermione could only hope. Otherwise, it felt very much like her hard-earned summer vacation was going to be ruined.

“Show Draco to the house, would you, dear?” Helena said as she waltzed by Hermione and headed toward home. Hermione’s parents had purchased a house just across the street from the beach, Hermione almost couldn’t believe their luck in getting such a prime spot.

“Of course, mum,” Hermione replied, watching her mother go.

“Dinner, eh?” Malfoy said from behind her. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Hermione asked for the second time that day.

“Vacationing. My family too has a home here.”

“No bloody way,” Hermione groaned. “You get one dinner, then I don’t want to see you for the rest of the summer. I can’t believe you said yes! You know she’s a Muggle right? My dad too.”

“I’m aware of what the term Muggle-born means, yes,” Malfoy said dryly. “Besides aren’t you supposed to be the non-prejudiced one?”

Hermione finally turned to glare at him. “Let’s just get one thing straight here, Malfoy.” Hermione poked him in the chest. She conveniently ignored how hard his chest was beneath her finger. “I would do anything to keep my parents safe. So, whatever plan you’re scheming, go ahead and give it up now.”

“Woah, Granger, calm down. There’s no plan.” Malfoy rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t even know you were here. I was just walking down the beach, and you looked familiar, so I stopped.”

Hermione glared at him one final time. “Fine, but after tonight, I don’t want to see you again.”

“Alright,” Malfoy nodded, almost pleasantly. Hermione still didn’t trust him, but she also couldn’t pull her wand out and hex him either so she started heading toward her home, assuming Malfoy would figure out to follow her.

The moment Hermione stepped into her house, she turned to Malfoy and set him in the living room in front of the telly. “Wait here.”

Then she hurried upstairs to change into something that wasn’t her bathing suit. She still felt mortified that Draco Malfoy had seen her in it. But thankfully, he hadn’t commented. Surely, she would die of embarrassment if he had. She rushed through a quick shower, not bothering to attempt to do more with her hair then throw it up in a messy bun on top of her head. A pair of shorts and a t-shirt and Hermione felt like a new person.

As she made her way down the stairs, she heard men’s laughter and groaned. Malfoy speaking with her father could not be a good thing. She had hoped that she could play the buffer between Malfoy and her parents and it seemed that maybe she had missed the boat.

“How do you know Hermione, again?” her father asked. Hermione stayed silent, not moving. While part of her wanted to go down there and play the buffer, the other part was dying to know what Malfoy would say to such a question.

“From school,” Malfoy replied. “We were in the same year.”

“Did you fight in this war then?”

 _Oh, shit._ “Dad! Hey, that’s not cool to ask, you know?” Hermione said as she bounded the rest of the way down the stairs and entered the living room. Malfoy looked up from his spot on the couch, and Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. _He’s fucking gorgeous_. She shook her head, that was a ridiculous thought that deserved no more consideration.

She moved the rest of the way into the living room, her dad was in his favorite armchair, and the telly was muted.

“Every wizard was involved in the war in some way. We all have scars,” Hermione said quietly. She didn’t know why she was covering for Malfoy like this, but part of her surely knew that his role in the war had been forced on at least some level, if not entirely. Hermione wasn’t quite sure she could decipher the look Malfoy shot her, he seemed to be appraising her, and she suddenly wanted to know what he thought about her in particular. She smiled at her dad and changed the topic of conversation.

Dinner went surprisingly well, despite the fact that Hermione was poised the entire time to haul Malfoy out of there if he got rude with her parents. But he didn’t, he was the epitome of politeness. It was a side of Malfoy that Hermione had never seen before and more than once she caught herself looking at him, and considering him in ways she’d never done so before. He was rather good-looking. And the moment that thought crossed her brain, she flushed with embarrassment and looked back down at her plate. She _did not_ think that the great prat Malfoy was good looking. It just wasn’t done. What would Harry and Ron say if they knew she felt such a thing? She shuddered at the image.

“Why don’t you walk your friend home,” Hermione’s mum suggested after dessert had been consumed. “Since he’s only just arrived, I’m sure you know the area better than him.”

“Mum,” Hermione hissed. “I’m sure—”

“That would be great, thanks Granger,” Malfoy smirked at her. Hermione scowled and stood abruptly from the table, while Malfoy very politely thanked her parents for dinner and stimulating conversation.

The moment they were outside her parent's small beach bungalow, Hermione turned on him. “What do you think you’re playing at, Malfoy?” 

“Me? I just had a lovely dinner with your family. I’m not playing at anything, Granger.” The smile he gave her did funny things to her belly.

Hermione chose to ignore the way her belly was flopping around and narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, it was a one-time thing. It is _not_ happening again.”

She strode off down the street when she heard Malfoy call out from behind her. “I live this way, Granger!”

Hermione groaned and turned on her heel to follow him toward his home.

“You don’t really have to walk me you know,” he offered after a few minutes of walking in silence.

Hermione glared at him but didn’t admit that she couldn’t lie to her own mum. Malfoy smirked at her in return. Hermione was really getting sick of seeing that look on his face. It was like he was making fun of her in his head and she hated it.

“What are you really doing here?” Hermione asked.

“I told you, I had to get out of Britain. As far away as possible actually.”

Hermione snorted. “Mission accomplished.”

“Are you going back?”

“To Britain?” Hermione asked.

Malfoy nodded, which Hermione caught out of the corner of her eye. Hermione was planning to go back and finish her seventh year at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had already responded to her request accepting her. “Eventually,” she hedged. She didn’t want to admit to him that she was returning to school. She already knew it would be difficult to be in the same place where so many of her friends had died.

Malfoy pursed his lips, “Me too.”

Hermione didn’t press him. The war had been difficult for everyone, and she was sure that having Voldemort living in his house hadn’t been easy for Malfoy.

When they finally reached Malfoy’s home, Hermione was surprised to see it was remarkably similar to her own parent's beach bungalow. “This is your home?”

Malfoy nodded, smiling. “One of the smallest properties we own.”

Hermione snorted. That certainly didn’t surprise her.

Suddenly, Malfoy was too close to her, and she found the railing of the porch at her back. She looked up sharply to see a soft smile on his face and her heart pitter-pattered quickly in her chest. Was he—?

“You looked good in that swimsuit today, Granger.” He ran a finger down the length of her arm and settled his hand beneath her own. Hermione was sure she stopped breathing.

Malfoy’s smile deepened, and he raised the hand he was holding and placed a kiss on the back of it. Hermione was sure she felt his tongue dart out to taste her skin and if she hadn’t had the railing behind her, she was sure her knees would have given out.

“‘Night, Granger,” Malfoy said with one last smirk before stepping back and pulling his wand out. A quick wave and the door was open, and Hermione was left on his front porch speechless.  

* * *

Hermione wasn’t sure she remembered the walk home as she laid in bed later that night thinking about Draco Malfoy. She had never given him as much consideration as she did today. Before the war, he was a prat and a bully, and she’d ignored him as much as possible. Even with Harry’s ridiculous rivalry with him, Hermione had just rolled her eyes at their antics. She never thought about Malfoy. About what he was like. And now that she was thinking about him like that she wasn’t sure that she liked it. What was he really doing in Australia of all places? And where were his parents?

The house they’d walked to had been dark. Was he here alone? That seemed incredibly sad to Hermione. And her resolve to never speak with him again wavered. She sighed and rolled over, willing herself to sleep.  

* * *

 

Draco wasn’t quite sure what he was doing as he walked along the same stretch of beach he’d run into Granger at three days ago. She’d been fairly clear about them not seeing each other again, but he almost couldn’t help himself from looking for her. The last time he’d seen her had been at the Battle of Hogwarts. She’d been pale and thin, almost waif-like. But so incredibly strong. A true warrior. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment he had begun to think of her as someone other than Potter’s annoying sidekick. Certainly, not as far back as the Yule Ball in fourth year when she’d shown the entire school she actually was a girl and not a walking brain. But perhaps back in fifth year? Sixth year was somewhat hazy for him. And she wasn’t at Hogwarts for their seventh year. Not that Draco himself spent much time at Hogwarts that year.

The hated Mark on his arm was enough to pull him from school and Snape either couldn’t or wouldn’t stop it. Draco had seen more death and destruction in the year before the Final Battle than he’d ever wished to. Once again, he found himself bitterly hating his father for putting him in this position. And grateful that his father would live out his years in Azkaban. Draco’s mother was a different story. Draco wanted to hate her too, he did, but she was his mother and he couldn’t. She was the reason he was in Australia, to begin with. She’d been given house arrest for five years, and Draco couldn’t stay with her. He may not hate her the same way he hated his father, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be around her. So he’d fled to someplace as far away as he could manage. He’d realized too late what his pale complexion would do in the even the winter sun of Australia.

He spotted Granger lying in the sand again, she looked really good, and Draco was surprised at the reaction she had caused when he’d seen her a few days ago. He hadn’t lied when he recognized her and felt compelled to say something to her. He decided he would just watch her today; maybe if she spotted him, she wouldn’t think he was following her. He wasn’t, but Port Douglas was a small town, especially the neighborhood they lived in.

Draco settled onto the beach, watching the surfers and the waves roll in. He wondered how hard it was to surf? Did Granger know how? Maybe she’d teach him. He also wondered why her parents lived here. He had a sinking feeling that it had something to do with the war. Glancing over at Granger, he found that there was a boy their age sitting next to her. The boy had dirty blond hair and a slightly scruffy appearance. He was dressed in swim trunks with no shirt. The boy laughed and said something that made Granger’s shoulders stiffen. Draco didn’t even think about it; he just stood from where he was and loped over to them.

“Hey, love,” he said lightly, sitting on the edge of Granger’s towel and giving her a brilliant smile.

“Er, hi,” Granger looked confused for a moment, and Draco just smiled at her.

He turned to the boy, “I’m Draco, and you are…?”

The boy looked between Granger and Draco for a moment, and Draco laid his hand on Granger’s calf, attempting to make it look like they were together, even though Granger was definitely not playing along.

“Tom,” the boy said, sticking out his hand. Draco smiled blandly at him and shook it, not at all surprised when Tom attempted to crush his hand.

“How do you know Hermione, Tom?” Draco asked pleasantly.

“Oh, I, uh, don’t.” Tom looked around and had spotted something; he turned back to them. “See you around.” Then got up and trotted off.

“Move your hand, Malfoy,” Granger said low and quiet.

Draco had been watching Tom leave and hadn’t even noticed that his hand was still on Granger’s calf, his thumb absently drawing designs on her smooth skin.

“Oh, right sorry,” Draco moved his hand as if he’d been burnt.

“What are you doing here?” Granger asked.

“Apparently saving you from _Tom_. What kind of name is Tom anyway?”

“Voldemort’s, obviously. I agree it’s a terrible name.”

Draco was surprised at her answer and laughed. Granger smirked at him. “But seriously, what are you doing here?”

“He was making you uncomfortable,” Draco defended himself. Granger’s eyes widened, and Draco felt like kicking himself.

“Who are you to decide what makes me uncomfortable?”

“Oh come off it Granger, he made some dirty joke, didn’t he? You stiffened and scowled. I was just trying to help.” Draco stood abruptly and stormed off.  

* * *

Hermione felt like a prat. Malfoy had been kind enough to scare off the Muggle and glancing around; she found Tom and his friends looking her way. She hopped up and followed him down the beach.

“I seem always to be apologizing to you,” she said. Apparently, Malfoy hadn’t been expecting her to be there because he jumped when she spoke.

“Because you underestimate me,” Malfoy replied.

Hermione snorted. “Probably. But leaving as quickly as you did seemed to make Tom and his friends suspicious.”

She watched as Draco looked over his shoulder and scowled. Then he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in. Hermione squeaked at the action and blushed when she felt him kiss the top of her head.

“What are you doing, Malfoy?” she hissed.

“Making sure _Tom_ and his mates know that you aren’t available.”

Hermione pouted. Malfoy wasn’t wrong, she didn’t get a good vibe from Tom, but she also didn’t like thinking she couldn’t take care of herself.

“Right,” she finally conceded. She absolutely did not want to think about the way his thumb was brushing designs against the skin of her waist. Or the fact that she was once again in a bikini in Draco Malfoy’s presence. Or how delightful it felt to have his arm wrapped around her waist.

“Oi! Mate!” someone called from behind them. Malfoy turned them slowly, and they found Tom and a few of his friends.

“You sure you’re alright, love?” Tom asked Hermione.

“Of course,” Hermione assured him.

“Because it doesn’t really look like he’s your boyfriend,” one of Tom’s friends piped up. The group stepped closer and Hermione began to feel mildly alarmed. They were outnumbered, and her wand was in her bedroom at her parent's house.

“What’s it to you, Tom?” Malfoy sneered. His arm tightened around Hermione’s waist, and she was suddenly grateful for his presence.

“Just pointing out the obvious,” Tom shrugged. He glanced over his shoulder as if confirming something with his friends, before looking back at Hermione and Malfoy.

“I’ve known him for seven years,” Hermione said. “We attended the same school in Britain.”

“Right,” Malfoy nodded, placing a kiss on top of Hermione’s head. She tried to stem her blush before it started. It was utterly surreal to have Draco Malfoy’s arm around her and him kissing even just the top of her head. Sure, he was just pretending along with her, but that didn’t mean that some small part of Hermione sort of wished it was real. Perhaps, not with Malfoy, but with someone. She envied Harry and Ginny. Even Ron and Lavender. Hermione had never really even had a boyfriend. Ron didn't count. They had agreed before she left that they were _not_  compatible.

“Right,” Tom said, still eying the skeptically.

“Was there anything else?” Hermione prompted.

“No, not at all,” Tom smiled at them, and he and his friends walked away. Hermione didn’t entirely trust that smile and hoped that Tom would get the hint and leave her alone.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Hermione said, attempting to step out of his embrace.

“Not quite so fast,” Malfoy muttered, and sure enough, Tom had looked over his shoulder at them. “We may have to make this a thing,” Malfoy said looking down at her. He reached a hand up and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

“A thing?” Hermione asked, swallowing hard. Did he really mean what she thought he meant?

“Yeah, just until you go back to Britain. Keep guys like Tom over there off your back,” Malfoy smirked at her.

“I don’t know…” Hermione trailed off, and Malfoy shifted his stance until he was directly in front of her and had a hand on either of her hips.

“Think about it,” Malfoy said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you if Tom can’t catch a hint.” He leaned down and pecked her forehead and then walked off down the beach. She saw him collect a towel and small bag before heading back toward town. Hermione sighed. Draco Malfoy was being nice to her, and she didn’t quite know how to take it. She returned to her own blanket and stuffed her book in her bag, before tossing the blanket over her shoulder.

“Leaving already, love?” Tom asked, falling into step beside her. Hermione stiffened. She’d thought he’d gotten the hint, but apparently not. She really didn’t want to lead him back to her parent's house. There was something slightly off about him.

“I have plans,” Hermione smiled as apologetically as she could.

“With Drahco?” Tom prompted.

“Draco,” Hermione corrected. “Yes, we’re going to grab some lunch.”

“And he just left you here?” Tom asked, not taking his eyes off her. She’d stopped at the road, unwilling to go further with Tom still tagging along. 

“We’re meeting later,” Hermione said. “I want to get cleaned up,” she laughed, hoping it was self-deprecating enough that Tom would catch a hint.

He didn’t. “I can walk you back if you’d like.”

“No, that’s alright.” Hermione was beginning to get very uncomfortable. She didn’t know what to do. She could walk into town, perhaps her parent’s dental clinic? But that would be a giveaway the moment one of her parents saw her.

“You sure? I don’t mind,” Tom smiled. Hermione supposed it would be charming if he weren’t so creepy.

“There you are,” Malfoy called from across the street. He loped across and joined them. “I thought you were right behind me.”

“I was—”

“You left her,” Tom accused belligerently.

“Woah, mate, calm down,” Malfoy placated him, holding up his palms. Hermione took the opportunity to stand next to Malfoy, and he wrapped an arm around her waist again. Hermione was beginning to like the way his arm felt around her. _Careful, Granger_ , she warned herself. She couldn’t get too attached just because she wanted to know what it was like having a boyfriend. It was obvious Malfoy was only offering to be her fake boyfriend to be kind to her—which was exceedingly strange. Malfoy wasn’t nice. What could he possibly want?

“Whatever,” Tom cast a dark look at them both before striding away towards his friends once more.

“Told you—”

“Why?” Hermione asked, cutting him off and looking up at him.

“Why what?” Malfoy looked confused.

“Why are you being nice? What do you want?” Hermione’s tone was perhaps harsher than she meant it to be.

Malfoy sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. You looked like you needed the help and well… I don’t know anyone else here. So I just thought, we should stick together.”

“I’m a Mudblood,” Hermione said flatly.

“Is that what this is about?” Malfoy asked. “You want to have that conversation right bloody now?”

“Yes,” Hermione tilted her chin defiantly.

“Fine,” Malfoy sighed. “This thing,” he lifted his sleeve, showing her his Dark Mark. He looked mildly surprised that she didn’t flinch at the sight of it, but it wasn’t the first Dark Mark Hermione had ever seen, “is the worst fucking thing to have happened to me. I didn’t want it. It was forced on me as punishment for my father failing to get the prophecy from you and your lot in the Department of Mysteries at the end of fifth year. Then I lived with that fucking psycho in my house for two fucking years.

“Two years, Granger! That fucking murdering megalomaniac was living in my house. Do you know what that does to a person? I couldn’t relax ever. I always had to be Occluding or risk a stray thought about anything escaping and him killing me. Or worse, my mother. It was bloody miserable. The whole thing. I had already had suspicions that whatever it was that drew my parents to his side was bullshit, and it was only solidified that day that you were tortured in my drawing room. The same room that I celebrated Christmas with my parents every fucking year was also the room that your blood seeped so deeply into the floors it wouldn’t come out. And you know something about your blood, Granger?” He’d stepped so close to her as he spoke that his chest brushed hers as he panted.

“What?” she whispered, he had spell-bound her with his speech. She held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s as red as mine,” he whispered. “It’s not muddy at all.” He let out a bitter laugh.

Hermione took a deep breath, about to say something, anything, but he beat her to it.

“And watching you lie to my aunt under the Cruciatus, not to break when men twice your age have broken under the same curse cast by the same psychotic bitch? It made me realize that you are a fucking goddess, a queen. And I promised myself that day, that if I ever had a chance to tell you or help you or even be in the same room as you again, I’d do anything in my power to make that happen.”

“Malfoy,” Hermione breathed. At some point, his hands had landed on her hips again, and he was drawing her into him.

“Granger,” Malfoy responded, lowering his head. Hermione thought he might kiss her. Merlin, how she wanted him to kiss her.

He stopped a hair's breadth from her lips. His eyes were closed, and Hermione couldn’t stand the tension anymore, so she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. His lips were warm, surprisingly warm and she clutched at his shoulders as his hands wound around her waist, traveling up her back, holding her to him. Hermione had never had a kiss like the one she was having now. If you had told her this morning that she would have been kissing Draco Malfoy in a few hours, she would have laughed. Now she just wanted never to stop kissing him.

Malfoy slid his tongue along her bottom lip and then nipped at it. Hermione took the hint and opened her mouth. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, and Hermione couldn’t stop a moan from bubbling out of her throat at the contact. The moan broke the kiss, and Malfoy pulled away from her breathing hard. Hermione felt a tumult of emotions, exhilaration at the best kiss of her life, confusion that it was Malfoy who had given it to her, and arousal.

“Come on,” Malfoy muttered and grabbed her arm, leading her across the street.

“Where are we going?” Hermione said after several minutes of walking.

“I was just trying to get you away from the beach and Tom,” Malfoy shrugged. “You can go wherever you want, Granger.”

Hermione stopped walking. His tone was bitter and spiteful again. Had he regretted what they’d just done? He’d sounded so sincere that Hermione had just believed him. She hadn’t even thought that he might just be toying with her for his own amusement.

“Fine. Thanks, Malfoy,” Hermione muttered and walked in the opposite direction to go back to her parent’s house.

She didn’t understand this hot and cold thing he was doing with her. The only explanation was that he was toying with her. Well, she wasn’t going to put up with it. She was determined to enjoy her summer despite Draco Malfoy.  

* * *

Draco wasn’t sure what his plan with Granger was. He didn’t have one, not really, except he knew what he’d told her that day had been absolutely true. He didn’t believe in the blood purity shit he had peddled for years. How could he when Granger was walking proof that it was all wrong?

And what logical sense did it make to anyone that a baby would steal another baby’s magic? Like how would that even work? He’d asked his Aunt Bella to explain it to him once and she’d launched into this overlong explanation full of circular logic that didn’t make any sense. So he’d asked Severus the same question and just received a baleful glare. Draco took that to mean that Severus clearly didn’t believe the tripe about Muggleborns stealing a wizarding child’s magic.

That’s where the thread began unraveling, and living with the Dark Lord, living with his insane aunt and his obviously terrified parents, Draco learned that sometimes even adults don’t know what the hell they are doing. He’d always just assumed that all adults had their lives together, but the war had taught him differently. It at least made him feel like less of a fuck up. Even if the Mark on his arm would show him for the fuck up he was for the rest of his life. Draco felt a twinge of guilt as he thought of his mother again. He really shouldn’t have left her in Britain alone, but Draco wasn’t sure he could live at Malfoy Manor ever again. He still had nightmares of the war in that awful place and so the moment he to force himself on her practically he’d said goodbye to his mum and fled. He was a coward.

It was more than a little ironic that he’d ended up in the same place as Granger after the war. Even more so when he realized how cowardly he was being. What would Granger think of him if she knew? Probably agree that he was a coward. He snorted to himself. He wasn’t surprised that she’d run away after their kiss. He had deliberately pushed her away. Because once again, he was a coward. His feelings toward her may have changed, but that didn’t mean _he_ had changed. He was still too scared to let anyone get too close. Especially someone like Granger.

He vowed to stay away from her. She’d been clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him. And here he was practically forcing himself on her? By what? Pretending to be her boyfriend? He was a coward. Why would he care about her enough to try and protect her from the locals? It didn’t make sense. He shook his head and finished the walk back to his home. Resolved once more to keep his distance from Granger.   

* * *

It had been almost a week since Hermione had seen Draco, but that wasn’t a surprise because she had been avoiding the beach entirely. She’d found the library and had been spending some time going through the stacks, trying to find something that piqued her interest even mildly. Muggle fiction was uninteresting, so Hermione was in the reference section, brushing up on what she knew of Muggle maths and science. Maths was somewhat similar to Arithmancy, and she found several correlations between the two subjects.

She was deep in a book on Muggle calculus when someone sat next to her. She ignored them for a while, but then felt an arm sneak it’s way to the back of her chair. A glance from the corner of her eye told her it was the Muggle boy Tom.

“Calculus? Aren’t you on summer hols?” Tom asked.

Hermione finally looked up at him. He had a book on chemistry in front of him; it was open about halfway through.

“I have a chem test tomorrow,” Tom muttered. “What are you doing in the library?”

Hermione wasn’t sure what to say. She hadn’t thought about Australia having a different school season. Tom wasn’t wrong, it was summer hols for Britain, but Australia went to school during the Northern hemisphere’s summer months. She’d seen Tom at the beach during the week though, so she had just sort of assumed he wasn’t in school.

“I needed a break from the sun,” Hermione eventually said. Tom still gave her some creepy vibes, but she wasn’t quite sure how to tell him to buzz off while still being polite. Malfoy would probably tell her to tell him to fuck off, and while Hermione wanted to, that instinct to be polite, to be kind was too strong to be overcome.

“I could give you a break,” Tom grinned at her, and Hermione felt her unease creep up. Where was Draco Malfoy when you needed him?

“Er, that’s okay,” Hermione flashed him a quick smile. She glanced at her watch. “Oh, no! I’m late to meet Draco.” She smiled at Tom once more, this time an apologetic one. “Please excuse me.” She stood quickly and reshelved the book she’d been reading. It was a reference book which meant she couldn’t check it out. And even if she could check it out, she wanted to get out of the library and gone as soon as possible, hopefully, before Tom could follow her. She couldn’t put her finger on why he was so off-putting, but he was and the more she interacted with him, the more she felt it.

She was halfway home when she realized she was being followed. She crossed the street in an attempt to get a look at who was following her and wasn’t surprised to find that it was Tom. Merlin, the boy could not catch a hint and it was starting to piss Hermione off. She walked right past her house and hoped that Malfoy was home. She definitely didn’t want to lead Tom to her house, and she didn’t feel that comfortable leading him to Malfoy’s either, but she wasn’t sure what else to do. The streets were very residential, which meant that she couldn’t duck into a shop and the sun was beginning to go down. She increased her pace, hoping to get to Malfoy’s before it was entirely dark.

She’d just made it to Malfoy’s porch and was severely upset to not see a single light on in the house. Godric, she hoped that he was home and just sitting in the dark or in the back or something. She knocked on the door hard when Tom strode up the steps to the porch.

“This where you live, sunshine?” Tom asked.

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes, why in the world would she knock at her own home?

“Oh, no,” Hermione smiled tightly. “This is Draco’s home. He must be running a bit late.”

“You don’t have a key?” Tom asked as he walked toward her. Hermione backed up, and soon her back was against one of the columns on the porch. This was not good. Fuck, she hoped Malfoy was home and was coming to the door.

“I forgot it,” Hermione lied. She tried to dodge Tom’s hand, but he managed to cage her in, one hand on either side of her head. He was leaning in like he was going to kiss her and Hermione turned her head completely to the side.

“Oi! Can’t you take a hint, mate?” Malfoy shouted from behind them, and Hermione popped her eyes open to see Malfoy striding quickly up the walk of his house.

“Drahco,” Tom spat and whirled on him. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here, you git,” Malfoy said as he quickly ascended the porch steps. “What are you doing trying to kiss _my_ girlfriend.”

“Finders keepers,” Tom sneered. Hermione gasped and was about to say something but Malfoy beat her to it.

“She’s not a bloody object you fucking prat,” Malfoy growled getting up in Tom’s space. Tom was taller than Malfoy, and Hermione felt like this was going to end badly for him. Sweet Circe, how did she find herself in a position like this? Defending Malfoy? Happy to see Malfoy? If Harry and Ron could see her now, they’d blow a gasket.

Tom pulled his hand back, and Hermione was sure he was going to hit Malfoy.

“Draco!” she shouted a warning just as Tom swung his hand forward. Malfoy ducked Tom’s hit and ran at him, tackling him around the waist into the railing next to Hermione. Hermione jumped away, and Tom got a hit into Malfoy’s kidneys making him grunt. Malfoy pulled his own fist back and hit Tom square in the mouth, blood flying everywhere.

“Stop!” Hermione shouted, but neither of them heard her.

Tom got a shot in at Malfoy’s nose, breaking it with a crunch. Malfoy wiped his face with the back of his hand got a few shots into Tom’s abdomen.

“STOP IT!” Hermione screamed louder, pulling at the back of Malfoy’s shirt.

Malfoy finally seemed to come out of it, and he backed off of Tom both of them breathing heavily.

“Stay the fuck away from _my_ girlfriend,” Malfoy warned, pulling Tom up by the neck of his shirt. He shoved him down the stairs and Tom sprawled onto the front walk.

“Or what?” Tom spat some blood onto the concrete next to him.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Malfoy said deadly serious. Hermione looked at him with wide eyes; she desperately wanted to back away from him. The anger pouring off of him was real and heavy, but she could feel Tom’s eyes on her, so she laced her fingers through Malfoy’s, presenting a united front to Tom.

“Fucking Brits,” Tom muttered and staggered to his feet.

“Let’s go,” Malfoy muttered and pulled Hermione with him inside his house.

“Merlin, Malfoy, are you alright?” Hermione asked as he led her to the back of the house. He pulled out his wand and muttered a _Lumos_ charm, lighting the candles in what she discovered was the kitchen.

“My fucking nose is broken, Granger. What do you think?” Malfoy snapped.

Hermione sucked in a breath wondering idly if she was going to be safe being alone with him. Malfoy sat heavily at a small table and Hermione realized he looked miserable hanging his head into his hands.

“Right,” she didn’t have her wand so she couldn’t heal him the wizarding way, but she found a couple of hand towels in a drawer and wet one of them. She sat in the other chair and lifted his head with her hand. He opened his eyes, and Hermione could see one of them was starting to blacken. She wiped the blood from his face, and then held a dry towel to his nose, trying to stop the bleeding. Malfoy didn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Aren’t you a witch?” he asked. It wasn’t sarcastic like she’d expected it to be.

“I’ve been leaving my wand at my parent’s house,” Hermione shrugged.

“Don’t do that anymore. That Tom guy isn’t going to give up,” Malfoy muttered darkly. Hermione nodded her head. Malfoy was right. Tom seemed to be escalating, and she could have prevented this whole thing if only she’d had her wand on her. She wouldn’t have even had to use defensive magic against Tom, just lose him and cast a Disillusionment charm on herself. She shook her head, she was an idiot.

“Right, I won’t,” Hermione nodded, pulling the towel back, checking the damage.

“Here,” Malfoy grunted.

Hermione looked down to see that he was holding his wand out to her, handle first.

“Are you—”

“Just take it and fix my fucking nose, Granger,” Malfoy hissed.

“Right,” Hermione nodded and grabbed Malfoy’s wand with a bit of trepidation. It was possible that Malfoy’s wand wouldn’t even work for her, not all wands would. She grasped it and was mildly surprised to feel a hum of magic respond to her touch. Not even Harry or Ron’s wands responded like this to her. She sucked in a breath and looked at Malfoy. She couldn’t decipher his blank stare. She gripped the wand tighter and pointed it at Malfoy’s nose. “ _Episky_.”

A sharp crack and a groan from Malfoy indicated she had done the spell correctly.

“Fuck, remind me not to get into a Muggle fight again,” Malfoy muttered, rubbing at his sides.

“Here,” Hermione said and lifted his shirt. She Summoned some ice to her and wrapped them in one of the towels, pressing it to his kidneys.

“If you wanted to get me naked, you could have just said,” Malfoy breathed into Hermione’s ear, and she realized she was entirely too close to him. She squeaked and would have jumped back, but at some point Malfoy had wrapped an arm around her waist. She stared into his eyes and licked her lips. Malfoy’s eyes darted down to follow the path of her tongue and Hermione felt her heart race. He was going to kiss her again and Hermione was sure that she would let him. She closed her eyes and heard Malfoy chuckle lightly; then he released her. Hermione snapped her eyes open and stared at him. She had been so sure; she furrowed her brows. Was she actually upset that Malfoy _hadn’t_ kissed her? That was as absurd as wanting him to kiss her in the first place. She set his wand onto the table and stood from her chair, putting some distance between them.

“Leaving already, Granger? You just got here,” Malfoy drawled.

“Why did you do it?” Hermione asked. She needed to know his motivations. Why would he bother fighting a Muggle for her?

“I don’t bloody know,” Malfoy replied. “Except I saw him there, caging you in and my vision just went red.”

“I’m not your girlfriend,” Hermione reminded him.

“I know,” Malfoy said. “I know you aren’t. And I shouldn’t feel so protective of you, and yet I do.” He shrugged. Hermione felt her heart lurch; he felt protective toward her? It was almost sweet if what he and Tom had just done hadn’t been so scary.

“Tom has a lot of friends, he’s going to come after you,” Hermione shook her head.

“Then let’s keep up the ruse,” Malfoy said, finally lifting his head and looking up at her. His face was carefully blank, but his eyes were swirling with an emotion she wasn’t sure she wanted to understand.

“What if I don’t want it to be a ruse?” Hermione whispered and then immediately covered her mouth. She couldn’t believe she’d just said that. And to Malfoy of all people. He’d never let her live it down. She turned abruptly from him and would have walked out of the kitchen if she hadn’t heard his chair scrape across the floor as he stood. She froze, unsure of what to do when she felt a pair of hand settle on her waist. Malfoy was directly behind her; she could feel his body heat through the thin layer of her t-shirt.

“Well, that’s good,” Malfoy rumbled, and she felt his face press against his curls, his breath hot on her neck. “Because I don’t really want this to be a ruse either.” He softly kissed just below her ear. Hermione found herself tilting her neck quite involuntarily allowing him additional access. She leaned her back against his chest as his long arms wrapped around her waist. He moved her hair off her neck and began planting kisses just below her ear.

“Malfoy,” Hermione breathed. It was almost involuntary, she didn’t know what she was going to say, but Malfoy stopped kissing her. He reached a hand up from her waist and tilted her chin, shifting their bodies so she could look at him. His eyes bounced between her lips and her eyes and before Hermione could blink, he pressed his lips to hers. She inhaled sharply, and his scent overwhelmed her. Turning, she wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself to him. Malfoy responded by leaning down to pick her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and soon found her back against a wall. They continued kissing and Hermione was sure it was his length she was feeling at her core. It was hard and long, and pulsed. She moaned at the feel of it. At the feel of him.

“Hermione,” he breathed as he broke away and began kissing down the side of her neck. Hermione moaned at the feeling of his lips as they traversed across her skin. She never wanted him to stop. She couldn’t believe they were doing this but wasn’t about to make him stop. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“Please,” Hermione said as she pulled his face up, her hands on either side of his cheeks. His ice blue eyes stared at her, the pupils blown wide with arousal. “Take me to bed.”

Malfoy groaned and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. He tasted the skin he found there, right by the strap of her tank top. “Are you sure?” he asked her shoulder.

Hermione threaded her hands through his hair, pulling him up once again so she could look at him. “Very sure.”

Malfoy growled and kissed her hard then he backed off her, and she slid her legs down his slowly. He turned grabbed her hand and led her out of the kitchen and up a set of stairs to a small bedroom. He didn’t bother turning on any lights and the street lights outside provided just enough that she could see shapes of furniture. The moment they were in the bedroom, Malfoy was on her again. He kissed her and backed her onto the bed. Before letting her drop down onto it, he tugged at the hem of her tank top and she helped him take it off. She did the same to his t-shirt and explored his chest. He was slender but well built and his muscles rippled under her fingers. He reached behind her, and a flick of her fingers had her bra off and on the floor. Hermione wanted to hide herself, she didn’t have much experience, but before she could, he cupped them both, thumbing her nipples.

“Godric,” Hermione groaned, tilting her head back, grasping his arms to keep herself steady.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Granger,” Malfoy said and began peppering her chest with kisses. Hermione could barely hold herself up and dropped heavily onto the bed. Malfoy followed her down swiftly, covering her body with his. The delicious feel of skin on skin had Hermione moaning and desperate for more.

Malfoy settled between her thighs and Hermione wished she had her wand on her so she could Vanish her shorts entirely. He had his mouth on one of her nipples, and all rational thought left Hermione’s brain at the feelings he was causing. Fire zinged through her veins. It felt so delicious, he felt so good, she thought she might come from this alone.

“Malfoy,” she breathed, although it came out like a whinge and when Malfoy raised his head and met her eyes, Hermione thought she my melt from the intensity of the look he was giving her. “More. I need more.”

“Salazar, Granger,” Malfoy swore, his eyes fluttering closed when she wrapped her legs around him and flexed her hips into his. Malfoy scrambled with the button and zipper of her shorts and Hermione lifted her hips, helping him take off both shorts and knickers. Then he took off his own and Hermione’s eyes widened at the sight of him. He was long and thick, and her cunt ached for him to be inside her.

Malfoy licked his bottom lip then grabbed her around the waist and turned so that he was flat on his back and she was straddling him.

“I want to watch your tits bounce as you ride me,” Malfoy muttered cupping her breasts once more, thumbing the nipples.

Hermione had never been on top before. She and Ron had only done it a few times in the tent, attempting to keep quiet for Harry and Ron had always been on top. Malfoy must have seen something in her face, because he helped get himself lined up then placed his hands on her waist, guiding her down.

“Oh,” Hermione hummed as he filled her. This was different; he was deeper than Ron had ever been. He hit the spot inside her that had her rocking above him without a thought. It just felt so good.

“That’s it,” Malfoy encouraged, running his hands up from her waist to her breasts. Hermione steadied herself with a hand on either side of his head, and her hair fell around them in a curtain and closing them off from the rest of the world. Malfoy bent his knees, tilting Hermione even further and she found she was at the perfect angle to kiss him, so she did. It was a slow, languorous kiss, just as their lovemaking was. And Hermione had no doubts that this was what lovemaking was. It wasn’t the hurried, frenzy that she and Ron had done to scratch an itch and relieve some tension. 

This was slow and methodical. When she pulled back, the look in his eyes was almost enough to make her come. He looked at her as if she were the only person on the planet. As if she held all the answers and Hermione began to rock faster, chasing down the climax that was building inside her. Malfoy wrapped his arms around her, pulling her chest to his and another twist of his body and he was on top of her. His arms still wrapped around her his lips on her neck and shoulder and ear.

“Hermione,” he breathed into her ear and Hermione felt herself clench and clench and clench around him as her orgasm broke over her and swept her away.

Malfoy was muttering in her ear the entire time, his hips speeding up to meet her in her pleasure. “Feels so good… bloody brilliant… never stop… only you… fuck… Granger…” and he spilled himself inside her. It caused Hermione to have another small orgasm, the feeling of his seed splashing inside her, the way his cock pulsed so beautifully.

She didn’t know what this meant for them, but she did know that it was a turning point in their relationship.  

* * *

“... summer fling,” those words broke Draco out of his reverie. Granger was getting dressed in a hurry as the bright Australian sun streamed through the windows of his small bedroom. He had been enjoying watching her hop around on one foot, attempting to get both her knickers and her shorts on. She turned back around and slipped into her tank top. “Right, Malfoy?”

“What’s that, Granger?” Draco asked, meeting her eyes. She looked guarded, and Draco felt his heart seize.

“We’ll keep it as a summer fling. We’re both leaving in the autumn. It’ll be uncomplicated.” Granger shrugged and turned away, not meeting his gaze anymore.

His heart plummeted, and Draco suddenly found it difficult to breathe. She only wanted a summer fling? _Of course, she only wants a summer fling, you idiot. You’re an ex-Death Eater_.

“Yeah, right. Summer fling it is, Granger. Anything you want.” Draco stood quickly from the bed and pulled on his own pants and shorts. “Breakfast?”

“I should get going home,” Granger said. “I’m sure my parents are wondering where I am.” She laughed softly and darted out of the room, not even bothering to say goodbye.

Draco frowned as he heard the front door slam and he crossed the room to the window to watch Granger hustle down the street toward her parent's house. Draco whirled around and kicked his wardrobe, immediately regretting it when he realized he didn’t have any shoes on and stubbed his toe. He wanted more than a summer fling with Granger. He wanted a lot more. But how to show her that? And he vowed to do just that.  

* * *

The next few weeks flew by for Draco. He spent every moment he could in Granger’s company and had finally convinced her to keep her wand on her although Tom and his buddies hadn’t bothered them at all. Draco was due to leave by portkey the following day. It was the second to last day in August, and he still had to get his books for the new school year. By tacit agreement neither he nor Granger spoke about their plans after the summer ended. Draco hadn’t even asked her when she was leaving and she hadn’t volunteered. The only reason he was planning to say something to her now was so she wouldn’t be surprised when he wasn’t there tomorrow.

“Granger,” he said, getting her attention. They were lazing about on the beach. The weather was perfect for them, although perhaps the locals thought it a touch on the chilly side.

She turned her head and smiled at him.

“I leave tomorrow morning,” he said quickly. Her smile turned into a frown, but Draco couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses.

“Alright,” she said then turned back to face the sun.

Draco’s chin trembled. Alright? That was it? He felt like he was half in love with her and was leaving the next day and neither of them knew when they’d see the other again, and all he got was an alright. He turned completely from her and stood up.

“Loo,” he grunted and loped off toward a beach shop before any of the tears he was hiding behind his sunglasses could fall. When had he gotten so weak? Crying over a girl? _A girl you’re in love with_. He kicked at the sand, willing his emotions down. He would just have to show her as much as he could in the last few hours he had left with her how much he felt about her. And then hope that they would see each other again when he was finally done with school.  

* * *

Late that night, after Granger’s third orgasm, Draco was moving deeply in her, trying to bring her around for a fourth. He wanted to mark himself in her mind as the only one who could bring her such pleasure.

“Draco!” she cried out, and Draco felt his heart would burst. She only called him Draco when she was in the throes of passion. Same with him and the way he chanted Hermione's name when they were together. They would always be Granger and Malfoy to each other.

Later when he was sure she was asleep he whispered his love into her hair. Every thought and feeling he had towards the witch came pouring out of him into a near-silent soliloquy to her sleeping form.  

* * *

Hermione was quiet as she left her parents. Malfoy was gone already, back to Britain. She wondered what his plans were. She had wondered all summer long, but by some unspoken agreement, they hadn’t discussed anything that would happen after the end of the summer. She tried not to hope that she would see him again, but she couldn’t help the traitorous thoughts from flitting through her head.

“You sure you’ll be all right with this porty thingy?” Helena Granger asked as Hermione tucked the last few of her belongings into her school trunk.

“Of course, mum. It’s how I got here after all.”

“And you’ll be fine at Hogwarts by yourself? Without Harry and Ron? What about Draco? Will he be there?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” Hermione said. Ignoring the rest of her questions.

“What about Draco? He was so nice,” Helena commented.

“Yes, he is,” Hermione said. She refused to discuss Malfoy any further than that with her mum.

“Alright, keep your secrets then. When does the key thing leave?”

“Soon, about ten minutes, I think.” Hermione picked up her wand and cast a Tempus charm. The portkey left in eight minutes. She was going directly to the platform for the Hogwarts Express. She wanted to spend as much time with her parents as she could.

After giving both her parents long hugs, Hermione gripped the old snitch tightly in her fist, her other hand holding onto her trunk and she was yanked away from the warm Australian sun and back to the harsh reality of London and school. The summer almost seemed like a dream and Hermione knew she would cherish it forever. She smiled at the few friends that were returning. Luna waved happily and Ron and Harry gave her massive hugs. They weren’t returning, having opted to go directly to Auror training over the summer. Ginny was though.

She left Luna and Ginny and the rest of their friends on the platform as she boarded the train with her trunk. She was hoping she could find a compartment to herself. She wanted to bask in the warmth of her summer a little longer if she could.

Near the end of the train, there was a door open, and Hermione hustled inside, shutting it behind her as she hefted her trunk above her head and onto the storage rack above.

“Need any help with that?” a posh voice drawled. Hermione whirled around to find Draco Malfoy standing directly behind her.

“Granger,” Malfoy smirked at her, and she couldn't stop her answering grin. She launched herself into his arms, pressing her lips to his fiercely.

“Oh, Merlin,” Hermione pulled away from him suddenly worried. “This was supposed to be a summer fling! What are you doing here?”

“You think I had much time to complete any schoolwork in the last two years, Granger? I almost failed sixth year and didn’t even bother to sit my NEWTs last year. I’m just glad they let me back.”

Hermione stared at him, her heart was full of happiness at seeing him and yet dread was filling her. What would her friends say whey they found out?

“Granger,” Malfoy breathed, stepping closer to her once more, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “You think too much,” he muttered his lips ghosting over her own. He pressed a brief, chaste kiss to her lips. “We’ll figure it out.”

Hermione found her hands wandering around his neck all on their own as she pressed her body to his. She just had to trust him that they would figure it out.


End file.
